


Laugh, It's the End of the World

by microphoneMessiah



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microphoneMessiah/pseuds/microphoneMessiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Gamzee gives nary a fuck about the end of the world and tries to cheer up one downtrodden bro who isn't sure where to go.</p>
<p>A series of drabbles about the end of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. at the intersection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antioxidantsuperhero](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=antioxidantsuperhero).



> _Are we growing up or just going down?_  
>  _It’s just a matter of time until we’re all found out_  
>  _Take our tears, put them on ice_  
>  _Cause I swear I’d burn this city down to show you the light_

The world is ending in a matter of a few hours

(six tops)

but you could honestly care less.

You’re sitting on a street corner somewhere (the names of which are irrelevant as the faces on them) playing your old, beaten guitar like you have all the time in the world. You guess you do; it’s not like you have plans.

All around you people are screaming, running, crying, praying, and whatever else they can manage to squeeze into this ticking clock. You think it’s kind of funny; dying is inevitable and the bomb is just going to speed it up a little. It’s sort of sad, you guess, since there’s all those little ones out there who aren’t really being given a fair shot at this whole living thing. Bummer, but as you strum out the same four chords for what’s probably the millionth time, you just think

‘That’s life.’ Or, huh. ‘Not life.’ Or, something. Fuck, you don’t even know.

Your head’s wrapped up in keeping a beat between your fingering of the strings and a tune your thumping out on the base when you see him walk up. He’s mumbling under his breath with his hair whacked out in this crazy up-do. There are, what’s probably, years worth of worry lines carved into his face and his mouth tugs down with the most heart-breaking of frowns. You aren’t sure why you notice him: whether it’s the way his hands are pale from clutching the rosary around his neck or the way his steps still, somehow, look light as air as he carries a huge backpack of, what you presume to be, supplies. There’s just something about him that makes you grab at his leg as he passes you; you’re rough hands clutching at corduory jeans like it’s a lifeboat leaving a sinking ship. Makes you look at him straight in his confused, terrified eyes and ask,

“Have you ever seen the lights?”


	2. a card in the wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where they meet in the night, some cliche scene out of every bad movie you'll never get to see.

> _We’re the lifers here till the bitter end_  
>  _Condemned from the start_  
>  _Ashamed of the way_  
>  _The songs and the words own the beating of our hearts_

The look you get back is some insane mix of emotions; troubled, angered, and maybe a little happy to find someone who actually wants to acknowledge the fact they aren’t all dead yet.

“Let go of me.” You don’t let go.

“I need to leave.”

“And go motherfucking where? I ain’t heard of no safe spot you can run to or no magic witch on the hills to spare you.” 

The frown widens. “I might as well go somewhere though, shouldn’t I?” You can’t think of why that’s his plan. There really can’t be much he’s trying to get back to if it looks like he’s loaded down his life into that torn-up backpack.

You shrug at him. “You could go with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” Except when you ask, it’s not because you’re hurt or offended by the fact he’s shooting you down. No. It’s more of something else. Some sort of offer to keep him from being alone and the way his eyes shine a bit, tears clawing at the edges, you think that to him: it must be an offer to keep him safe from it all. And you can’t say you’re sure what that all is, but you’re damn well sure you’ll try.

He nods at you and so you get up, outstretching your hand in what you hope is a friendly gesture. His name, Tavros, is mumbled off his lips and you can’t help but smile when you hear it.

“Well, the name’s Gamzee.” You give a sort of half bow that does more to set him at unease then you’d have liked it to. “What do you say we get to walkin’?” And with that you grab your guitar, tossing the strap on your shoulder before taking long strides away. He keeps step pretty easily, (Tall motherfucker), so you don’t slow down.

It’s cold as the wind nips at ripped areas of your shirt and pants, winding it’s way through the gaps and brushing against your chest soft enough to make you shudder. It blows away a small card that was by your feet, it read, ‘Protection from the inevitable and more’. The chuckle that you make throws your new companion off a bit, but you really couldn’t help but wonder if ‘more’ included several metric tons of combustible materials? You raise your hand in a gesture for him to stop as you chase down the card, snatching it before it flys into the gutter. It’s missing an edge and print is faded, but it’s still well made, so you figure you’ll keep it

(a souvenir and a joke)

But, when you show it to Tavros, he’s less than amused.

(“You think Old Man Death’ll get us rich? We could take this firm to fuckin’ town, man.”

“That’s not…Why are you laughing? We wouldn’t even be able to spend the money we wouldn’t make.” Tavros nits his eyebrows together. “We’ll be dead.”

“You really need to lighten the fuck up.”

“Ha?”

A sigh. “Sure, bro.”)

Whatever, you’re sure he’ll come around eventually or die trying. Oh, that makes you snort. But, this time you figure you won’t tell this sweet, little dude next to you. He just ruins all the fun of this shit. 

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely off parts of Fall Out Boy's, "Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year".


End file.
